Henry Cavill Imagines

"Just drink your life away!"

YN'S POV...

     This has been an ongoing conflict for three years now; the partying, drinking, fighting, and tears were all taking a toll on me. Every few days, Henry would go to parties, get piss drunk, come back home, and then expect everything to be handed to him on a silver platter.

     When I lay in bed, alone in the cold sea of blankets, I stare up at the dark ceiling and think about the sound of his heavy feet stumbling into our home. It's a routine whenever he comes home at three in the morning. He slams the door, throws his keys somewhere, and then mumbles when he goes into the kitchen and doesn't see dinner waiting for him. Some nights --the bad nights-- he barges into our room where I lay sleeping and rips the covers off of me, yelling at me for being so inconsiderate.

     In the beginning when his drunken nights became a regular thing, I'd foolishly wait up for him, dinner hot and ready. But not anymore. I'm running out of tears to shed, and headaches come too often from our constant arguing. It's not healthy. We're not healthy.

     We fought tonight when I told him I wanted to take a break from our relationship. I told him that he needed to take some time to reevaluate his choices before I could ever be happy with him again. I assumed Henry would've cried, but I was proven false. I also did expect yells, though, and that's what I got. He then stormed out and has been gone since 10:30. It's 2am now.

     When I was trying to fall asleep in the guest bedroom, I quickly realized I couldn't. At first I thought it was because I missed our bed and being engulfed by his large warm arms. But then I came to the conclusion that I needed to pack my things and leave. So that's what I'm currently doing. Henry shouldn't be back for another hour or two, so I have enough time to pack a suitcase with some clothes I wear regularly and some shoes.

     I wish things didn't have to come to this. My love for Henry is something that the most creative poets couldn't fathom. It hurts my heart when I'm not around him for a long period of time. He's been my rock for years now, and to see our nine year relationship end because of his three year drinking problem makes me think that maybe I was never his.

     Just as I'm leaving a note for Henry on the kitchen table, I hear the door knob jiggle, the clanking of keys against metal sounds throughout our --his-- apartment. I freeze, my pen glued to the paper and the blue ink surely bleeding through the thin material.

     "YN," Henry slurs as he slams the door shut. "baby, I saw the lights on when I was in the cab. Why are you up?" He's drunk, but not even nearly as bad as he has been before. His words are slightly jumbled, but he can form coherent sentences for the most part.

     I stay quiet. He's never laid a hand on me. Never. That's something that I could always trust Henry would never do. His yells though...His yells send shivers down my spine. I don't want him to see me with a luggage packed and a goodbye note in my hand. That will only make him angrier. But then I realize that the kitchen light is on, and when he walks down the hall to find where I am, he'll have to check the kitchen first.

     Just then, he steps through the doorway of the kitchen. It takes a second for his eyes to adjust to the difference in lighting, but when they do, they narrow slightly at me. "What'd you just get home? Why do you have your coat on?"

     I place the pen on the counter while still holding eye contact with him, my hands quietly crumpling the note behind my back. There's no need for it now. "No. We need to talk."

     Henry shakes his head and walks around the kitchen island so that he's right in front of me. He grabs my waist and pulls me to his chest. "No more talking for tonight. I just wanna relax."